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She gave him her most infectious grin, the private smile she never turned to crowds or official assemblies. She spoke quietly enough that her words would not carry to the amplifiers. “You looked as though you’d been practicing that formation flying for weeks.”

“We were,” he said, straight-faced. “Liberating Thyferra didn’t take up much of our time.”

“You’re such a liar. Go talk to these people so we can all go home.”

Twelve X-wing snubfighters roared down into the atmosphere.

This was a dark world with a polluted sky, its atmosphere formed from gases and smoke hurled from hundreds of active volcanoes. Four kilometers ahead, the TIE interceptor, fastest fighter of the Imperial forces, was distantly visible; it stayed well ahead of the X-wings, though the fact that it was not now outrunning them was a clear indication that its engines were damaged. Further evidence were the sparks and gouts of smoke issuing from its engines, too far away to see except with visual sensors; if the engines failed, the pursuing X-wings could catch the interceptor.

Myn Donos, the X-wing squadron commander, toggled his comm system. “Talon Leader to Talon Eight, any change?”

His communications specialist answered, “No, sir. He’s not broadcasting. As far as I can tell, he’s not homing in on any sort of a signal. And I’m still not picking up any engine emissions, other than his or ours, on the scanners.”

“Very well.”

The interceptor’s speed suddenly dropped and the vehicle began bobbing as if hit by heavy turbulence. It lost altitude, veering to starboard toward a cleft between two enormous volcanoes. Talon Leader saw glittering orange threads of lava crawling down the near slope of one of the black, fire-capped mountains.

“Leader to squad, it looks like he’s losing thrust and going low to lose us with terrain-following flying. Don’t give him the opportunity. Get close and force him down.” He led his squadron in a lazy arc toward the same gap. He watched the numbers changing on his distance-to-target register: three kilometers, two point five; the interceptor was now emerging from the gap on the far side as the X-wings were entering it.

Talon Eight’s voice broke, high-pitched and nervous, over the comm system: “Engines powering up, sir! Directly ahead! I count four, seven, thirteen—”

“S-foils to attack position!” Donos shouted. “Scatter and—”

Shiner, his R2 unit, issued a sharp squeal of alarm. Donos’s console echoed it with beeps and indicators showing that someone ahead had a sensor lock on him—two locks—three locks—

Donos veered sharply to port—directly toward a volcanic flue and the impenetrable stream of gray-black smoke belching from it. As he hit the cloud he pulled back on the stick, rising straight up the concealing smoke. The sensor locks on him disappeared.

He heard explosions, some near, some far, and the excited comm chatter of his pilots. He added to it: “Talon Two, go skyward in the smoke screen; we’ll hit them from above.”

No answer.

There was other comm traffic: “Five, Five, he’s on your tail!” “Can’t get clear, vape him for me, Six—” “Can’t, I’ve got—I’ve got—” “Nine banked into the volcano wall, she’s gone—” Another explosion.

Moments later, at two thousand meters Donos angled to starboard, getting clear of the smoke and emerging directly over the gap between volcanoes.

No one was on his tail. He checked the sensor board—didn’t believe what it showed him, checked it again.

He and Talon Twelve were the only New Republic forces remaining on the board. He counted twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five Imperial blips. A dozen were veering toward Twelve, the remainder toward Donos.

In a matter of seconds, Talon Squadron had been all but destroyed. Glittering pieces of X-wings were still streaming down toward the planet’s broken surface. In another few seconds, he and Twelve would be vaped, and the destruction would be complete.

Through the shock of it, he said, “Talon Twelve, dive for the surface.